


Melancolía

by korereapers



Series: FE3H fic series [17]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Requited Love, Sexual Fantasy, Social Issues, wank week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25558492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korereapers/pseuds/korereapers
Summary: And that’s the problem, in fact. That Dedue cannot stop thinking about Dimitri, about his bare hands, scarred and a little uneasy as they touch him. About his lips, a little dry but equally sweet, kissing Dedue’s lips and making him feel loved, desired, safe.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Series: FE3H fic series [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773310
Comments: 21
Kudos: 52
Collections: Wank Week 2020





	Melancolía

**Author's Note:**

> _"Este pichón del Turia que te mando,  
>  de dulces ojos y de blanca pluma,  
> sobre laurel de Grecia vierte y suma  
> llama lenta de amor do estoy parando._
> 
> _Su cándida virtud, su cuello blando,  
>  en limo doble de caliente espuma,  
> con un temblor de escarcha, perla y bruma  
> la ausencia de tu boca está marcando._
> 
> _Pasa la mano sobre tu blancura  
>  y verás qué nevada melodía  
> esparce en copos sobre tu hermosura._
> 
> _Así mi corazón de noche y día,_  
>  preso en la cárcel del amor oscura,  
> llora, sin verte, su melancolía."
> 
> Federico García Lorca

Dedue should be sleeping, but can’t. He has been guarding His Highness’ bedroom for three nights, and his body might as well give up. It refuses to, stubborn, determined.

It had taken Dimitri’s words to finally convince him.  _ You’re going to collapse, Dedue. You promised not to throw your life away to protect mine. _

And so, he doesn’t. Because men of Duscur do not forget their promises, but more importantly, because Dedue himself doesn’t.

Edelgard’s death is still fairly recent and they haven’t gone back to Fhirdiad yet, and as such, Dimitri is still gloomy when his strength runs out. Dedue makes some tea for both of them, to calm Dimitri’s nerves.

It’s selfish, really, because Dedue spends more time looking at Dimitri’s face than actually drinking tea. The tired expression, blond eyelashes. A slight pout that he hasn’t lost over the years, and that he wants to kiss fervently until it becomes a smile.

And that’s the problem, in fact. That Dedue cannot stop thinking about Dimitri, about his bare hands, scarred and a little uneasy as they touch him. About his lips, a little dry but equally sweet, kissing Dedue’s lips and making him feel loved, desired, safe.

His body burns just by thinking about it. Dimitri’s blue eye both bashful and determined. Dedue wants to hold him, touch him.

He can’t. Even fantasizing about it feels unreal, and guilt eats him from inside, biting inside of his throat and on his nape.

His body is traitorous, though. His mind wanders through situations that he knows that will never take place. His armor feels heavy when he cautiously (yet impatiently) gets rid of it. He is feeling awfully self indulgent that night. Or maybe, it’s just that he cannot take it anymore, and that he needs some release, some closure to the fantasies he has had for years now.

It’s not a matter of his feelings being one-sided, far from it. He knows well that Dimitri shares the feeling. That he looks at Dedue the same way that Dedue looks at him, full of love and care and  _ want.  _ So much want it threatens to drown them both.

He cannot allow it, cannot allow the soon to be king to lay with someone like him. A commoner, a man, and from Duscur. He cannot allow it, cannot allow Dimitri to receive the scorn of his people, of all of Fódlan.

He is grateful just to be close to him, to be by his side. But sometimes, he does want more. Something that Dimitri would willingly give to him, because it’s obvious, because he knows that he is plagued with the same feelings as Dedue is.

He just cannot allow it.

Dedue sighs, sitting on his bed. It’s as warm as it was back in the day, five years ago. He knows that Dimitri sleeps right above him, and he almost reaches out, hands moving upwards, as if to try to connect with him.

He closes his eyes, and for a moment, he  _ feels  _ Dimitri. The corners of his lips against his cheek. His nose, now a little crooked but equally beautiful bumping against Dedue’s one as they kiss. His scarred hands, bare for once, palming Dedue with both slight hesitation and infinite care and desire.

He is hard, he realises. Very much so. He gulps, guilt pooling inside. He shouldn’t do something like this.

As he puts his hand on his crotch, caressing himself absent-mindedly, he realises that he can’t take it anymore.

He takes himself in his hand, rough and calloused, and yet gentle. It could be Dimitri’s hand, too, if it was more slender, clumsier. Shaking a little, careful, trying not to hurt him. Dedue would reassure him, that he would never, that he trusts Dimitri more than he trusts himself. 

He wonders if he should take his pants off, for a moment. He decides that he cannot wait anymore. He can clean his clothes later. For now, it’s just Dimitri on his mind. Only him. His scarred hands touching him, dry lips kissing his own. He would whisper words of encouragement against Dedue’s mouth, drinking from every single sigh and moan.

Because Dedue is moaning, stroking himself slowly, wondering about Dimitri’s hair against his fingers. About the warmth of his mouth as he took Dedue, his blue eye looking at him with so much devotion that Dedue melts at the thought.

“Dimitri…” he whispers, a plea among low noises that emerge from his throat. He dares not say his name in public, not yet, but when they are alone he feels safe enough to pronounce it without fear. It’s a name that fits his mouth perfectly, that his tongue caresses before actually pronouncing it. 

He keeps his voice down, not wanting to risk anyone hearing him. Especially not the person who rests above his ceiling. He feels guilty enough as he is.

In this fantasy, though, he feels at peace. Loved, cherished.  _ Safe _ . Wanted. Dedue is not used to feeling wanted, not like this, not just with desire but with actual affection. He is not used to having his attentions returned, and not only looking from afar. Dimitri wants him as much as Dedue does.

Dimitri would ask him to take him, to make love to him. Dedue wouldn’t even dare to think about it twice.

He opens the drawer by his bed, taking out a bottle of vulnerary, and then coating his throbbing erection with the fluid, like Dimitri would, eagerly kissing him, his crooked nose against Dedue’s one.

Dedue moans at the thought, thrusting his own hand desperately. His forehead is sweaty, and he can feel his toes curling slightly. He is not doing anything out of the ordinary, but the mere thought of Dimitri doing the simplest things for him sends him over the edge. 

He actually has to stop for a moment, breathing hard and deep so the tingling on his abdomen calms down slightly. He cannot stop his own mind from going wild, though. He tries to imagine Dimitri’s touch, if he would be a tight fit, if it would take them several minutes to adjust even after preparing him properly. If he would let Dedue take the initiative and gently fuck him against the mattress, of if he would prefer to ride him, wild and raw.

Dedue finds that he doesn’t really mind how it happens. He just wants him, wants him hard, aches for him so much that the feeling plagues his dreams and his fantasies. Dedue is hungry for him in ways that make him blush with both arousal and shame.

He cries out, pumping himself again, more furiously this time, pacing himself to make the experience enjoyable, but too flustered to actually drag it out too much. He shouldn’t be doing this to begin with. He has had enough fun for the day.

And then, he imagines it. Dimitri’s voice, shaky against his ear, pronouncing Dedue’s name like a prayer, begging him without coherent words.

As such, he answers accordingly.

“Di… Dimitri… I… Dimitri…”

He comes. Hard. His legs are shaking and even if he remembers to clench his jaw, it’s not enough to silence his breathless moans. He closes his eyes, focusing on the lingering sensation. He thinks about Dimitri kissing him with a smile, his cheeks, his chin, licking the sweat from his neck. Dedue would be too exhausted to do the same, but he would reciprocate as soon as his body felt his again.

He sighs, sheepishly, and he opens his eyes. 

The sight makes him freeze in place.

Dimitri is looking at him, in his sleeping robes, face a little rigid, and as flushed as Dedue’s, body shaking with an emotion that Dedue doesn’t identify. He has no doubt heard everything, and guilt threatens with actually killing Dedue.

It was never supposed to go like this. Someone so precious to him, tarnished by his own fantasies. He gulps, Dimitri’s expression strangely unreadable.

“I… that was… I apol-”

“The Goddess be damned, Dedue.” Dimitri interrupts him, his beautiful blond hair shining against the light of the candles, one of his hands scratching the skin behind his own ear. Embarrassed. Bashful.

Dedue doesn’t let himself linger on the feeling.

“Your Highness, I-” he tries to continue, reverting to old habits because of how mortified he is. 

Dimitri is having none of it.

“I cannot take this anymore, Dedue. This is foolish. Both of us are.” he says, and for the first time, Dedue becomes painfully aware of the tent on Dimitri’s pants.

_ Oh _ .  _ So that was it. Undeniably. _

“You are not angry.”

Dimitri doesn’t answer. He just gets closer to the bed, and  _ finally  _ kisses Dedue, both hard and gentle. Dedue returns the kiss, reluctantly, and Dimitri just smiles against his lips.

“Are you sure-”

“I am.”

“But your reputation-”

Dimitri’s lips against his drown any further complaint. As his hand guides Dedue’s one towards his erection, he finds that he doesn’t really mind this much, not while Dimitri safely embraces him, like this, between his arms.

Guilt be damned, he has the man he loves between his arms. And Dimitri’s real smile makes his fantasies pale in comparison.


End file.
